


[ Right Here Waiting ]

by VesperCat



Series: Timothée Chalamet/Amrie Hammer fics [1]
Category: Armie Hammer - Fandom, Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Timothée Chalamet - Fandom
Genre: Call Me By Your Name adjacent, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Song: Right Here Waiting (Richard Marx), Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29162580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperCat/pseuds/VesperCat
Summary: “Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you,” Timothée sing whispers.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: Timothée Chalamet/Amrie Hammer fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1272542
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29
Collections: CMBYN Love Song Challenge





	[ Right Here Waiting ]

**Author's Note:**

> For the CMBYN Love Song Challenge with requested number 17 and its corresponding prompt of Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx.

Timothée listens to the voicemail again while in the airport lounge, mouthing along with it.

“Hey, I'm not going to be able to make it because Elizabeth has lost their... marbles and I need to keep Harper and Ford safe,” Armie’s voice cracks and the white noise of inside a car can be heard, “I'll let you know when I'll be back again, okay? Love you.”

Timothée’s chest clenches all over again, not having seen Armie in the flesh for a very long time. Traveling mainly for work for Timothée; ‘Gotta get that dough, you know’. And Armie again for work but mainly for their children.

“Excuse me,” Timothée blinks the two tear drops away, hazy sight clearing to reveal a purple clad air host, “your flight is boarding,”

“Oh, thank you,” Timothée says, popping the travel pillow around their neck, gathers their bags and heads in the same direction as the air host.

+×+×+×+

Timothée drops their bags by the front door and hangs their dark green cap on the hat stand.

They flop onto the king sized bed, on Armie’s side because reasons. Okay, they can't help that they're in need of comforting right now. Before involuntarily falling asleep for as many hours as needed to feel ‘’normal’’ again Timothée sends a text to Armie; `At the apartment, will call after jet lag has worn off`.

 _The_ apartment, not _our_ apartment because Armie doesn't want to add fuel to the divorce fire. As if sharing the same bedroom doesn't imply anything not to mention sharing a wardrobe and sleeping in the same bed.

+×+×+×+

It's just one of _those_ days. One of those days where Timothée has done _all_ the laundry, has cleaned _every_ flat surface in the apartment and even attended to _that_ creaking door’s noise.

They still feel restless though, that restlessness only Armie knows how to solve. Whether it is going to the gym, browsing the bookstore a block away or expanding Timothée’s culinary expertise. Armie, mostly knows, best on how to use up and direct extra energy, mostly, constructively.

Timothée opens one of the windows, letting fresh air and the city sounds from below in, spots their guitar waiting and wanting to be played. Pulling the guitar closer Timothée plucks and strums the metal strings, playing a few pieces from memory and trying to play by ear from a YouTube playlist.

Current restlessness cured for now.

+×+×+×+

“Hey, so, um, I'm… because… um, I miss you...,” Timothée begins, an unexpected lump forms in their throat, “I miss you… a lot…,”

Looks at the voice-note loading, drops their phone to hang between their thumb and index finger, returns the phone to their hands, selects the voice-note and deletes it. Sighs and runs their fingers through their unkempt and greasy feeling hair.

Timothée’s ring adorned finger hovers over the voice-note button for a few seconds and tries again, “Hey, I miss you and hope it's going okay over there… see you soon-ish. Love you,”  
Before they could think otherwise the delivered and read signs are filled.

+×+×+×+

Timothée is cleaning, again. This time it's the cupboards,closets, and wardrobes. Tosses a once navy shirt onto a pile on their bed and moves to the next clothing item. It's one of Armie’s, it seems to be in the ‘have worn but it's still too clean to be washed’ category. Timothée bunches the material up and brings the black and white cloth up to their nose, takes a long drag of the fading deodorant and sweat.

Unravels the t-shirt and holds it out in front of them, pretends it's Armie kneeling before them. Before Timothée can bring the cloth back to their face, the phone on the wooden nightstand vibrates. Timothée drops the t-shirt and launches themselves to the cellular device with a rapid heartbeat. It's Will’s photo and name that's appearing on the screen, Timothée’s mood sinks again, contemplates not answering but their thumb automatically swipes over the green pictograph.

“Hey,”

“Hi, Will,”

“You want to come over tomorrow?” 

“Um,” Timothée contemplates, surveying over the organized mess, “I don't know, I'm-”

“Come on, it will do you some good not to be holed in your apartment the whole time,” 

“Okay,” Timothée reluctantly replies.

By the end of the day, there's a big box filled with anything from clothing to an extra grater waiting to be looked at by family and friends and whatever is leftover can be donated. Timothée is sound asleep in Armie’s t-shirt after the long day.

+×+×+×+

“Is it worth it, Tim?” Giullian asks when they were hanging out, “the waiting for what? Three years now?”

“Absolutely,” Timothée says, not even looking away from the action that's going on on the tv's screen, fingers never faltering on the gaming controller.

“Nah, you're just jealous,” Will jokes, shaking their friend’s shoulder, “right Tim?”

“I'm not sharing though,”

+×+×+×+

When Timothée unlocks their apartment. No, sorry, _the_ apartment. Anyway, they feel and see something different. The obvious sight of children’s toys in two boxes under the coffee table giving it away that Armie is home. Timothée checks into the rooms dedicated to Ford and Harper. There they are, sound asleep, peaceful and away from all the unnecessary shit that no children should go through.

Timothée gets ready for bed as quietly as possible and then slips under the cover to lay right next to Armie. Timothée runs their finger over sun bleached hair, traces along the hairline, goes with the grain of an eyebrow, gently over an eyelid, down the length of the nose, traces over the mountains and valleys of the heart shaped mouth, chin, neck, collar bone, all five fingers sliding slowly over the broader chest.

EGBA

_Everything's Gonna Be Alright_

“I really hope so, Armie.”

“Tim?” Armie’s sleep thick voice grumbles, eyes blinking open and a sleep heavy arm makes its way around Timothée’s waist, “You are not supposed to be back yet,”

Timothée just hums in response, hand stops moving but a finger does start to draw aimless squiggles. The hand on Timothée’s waist slowly and softly strokes over the knobs of their lover's lower back. They stare, green into blue and blue into green, re-familiarising themselves with their steady.

“Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you,” Timothée sing whispers.

Armie smiles, pulling Timothée closer, “Always?”

“Always.”


End file.
